


1924

by theowlinsomniac



Series: XX [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Gen, I might change it to T but I have to do some more planning before I decide., there's no smut! just some adult themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-02-26 14:02:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2654663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theowlinsomniac/pseuds/theowlinsomniac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the return of his ex-lover, the infamous Annie Leonhardt, Armin Arlert must decide whether or not his new life in New York City is worth abandoning for the members of the Titans, the Surveys, or for the love he thought he'd lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Against the Current

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize if some of this seems to be rushed or has mistakes. I edited it myself and I had a really hard time with this. If there are any major mistakes, please let me know!  
> I hope you all enjoy this sequel, the updates will NOT be regular, but I promise to make it worth it.

Late Winter 1922

  
The kitchen is dark and cold enough to see the hot breath that escapes her as she sits. Her legs are crossed, knee over knee, curved calf exposed in the frigid air. Dainty hands are folded in her lap, arms covered in the fine silk of an expensive blouse. Her collar is folded neatly, the front of her top buttoned tightly. Pale lashes brush rosy cheeks as she remains still, eyes closed as the silence in the room grows louder and louder. 

“Wir nehmen Ihr Haus.” she breathes, and the couple across from her can only scowl. Eyes open just enough to view her surroundings, for her to watch as her breath creates a small cloud in the air, and then dissipates. There are two men standing on either side of her, both carrying bulky guns, their hair slicked back and their cold eyes trained forward. They look out of place in the pale blue kitchen, designed a decade ago for a ‘modern’ housewife. The blonde woman at the kitchen table looks out of place too in her expensive clothing, a walking stick leaned up against the side of the wooden chair where she sits. Her eyes flick up to meet the pair that glares back at her from the other end of the table. 

The man was born in Russia, his uncles and cousins apart of a smaller mafia in this part of town. He’d hoped that his Russian brothers would save him when his house went under and his money ran out, but the German predator sitting across from him snatched the deal before he could even make the call. 

“We’re going to take your house.” she says, allowing her accent to flow through the air. It causes his wife to shift in her seat, but she sits tall and proud, not unlike the other molls the blonde woman has met before. “We’ll pay off your debts but you know what this means.” The man does not nod, but somehow she knows he’s registered this information. “We’ll need a first payment in exactly two months. Then we will be sending you our shopping list.” she doesn’t smile, doesn’t show any signs of victory. “You know what happens if you do not cooperate.” 

Dark eyes automatically flick to the portrait on the wall: a woman, a man, and their two boys. Again, he doesn’t nod. 

“We’ll help keep your business afloat in exchange for some… rare imports.” the man swallows and the blonde woman fights the urge to smirk. “And I expect that you will not contact us unless there’s an emergency of some sort.” she glances down and begins to pick at her fingernails, giving them a once over as she enjoys the couple’s silence. “Habe ich mich klar ausgedrückt?” she purrs, and then looks up, this time her lips curling upwards in a satisfied expression. The man is red with anger, body leaning forward just slightly out of rage. “Are the terms I have set for you very clear, sir?” she barks, and the wife flinches. There is no response for the man, so the blonde takes her walking stick and stands, body flinching as she lifts herself up and turns away from him. 

There’s an explosion behind her and she smiles. 

“I refuse to be controlled by a crippled German fiend—“ he snarls, and the men beside her move to tackle him. She lifts a hand, though, and everyone goes still. 

“You will listen to what I say because your life rests in the palms of my hands.” she lifts her chin, and does not turn her head to look at him. “There is a reason your family did not come to help you in your time of need. They all owe me something as well. Your little trade is meine hündin now, so before you act prideful know your damn place.” There’s a shuffle behind her like he’s going to attack, and before he can leap there’s a shot fired and a shriek emits from the woman.

The air is frozen as the five figures eye each other from their respective places in the kitchen. The man is now sprawled on the floor, leaning against his elbows with widened eyes. A baby begins to cry and there’s the faint sound of a dog barking as the blonde slides her gun back where it came from: the waistband of her skirt. The discharged bullet is lodged in the wall, the only trace of it being the small hole in the wall behind the man. A broad smile runs across her lips as she turns her back and begins to slowly make her way from the room and to the front door of the small house. As she is escorted into her car, she faintly hears the wife screaming at her husband in various Russian slurs and desperately trying to calm her shrieking children.

There’s almost an ounce of pity inside the blonde’s mind, but before she can dwell on it she’s tapping her driver’s shoulder and they’re rolling away as quickly as the black vehicle can take them.

* * *

Summer 1922

  
The bar smells like cheap liquor and the drink in his hand has a cherry flavor and the noise of people dancing behind him makes him more nauseous than the alcohol. This place is especially crowded and loud, effectively perpetuating his eternal headache and causing him to cringe in irritation every time the stools beside him go from unoccupied to occupied as the hours pass. He’s on his fifth and he knows if he asks for a sixth he won’t be able to walk himself home, so he lifts an arm to catch the bartender’s attention, and a hand slides into his lap before the portly serviceman can look his way. 

Armin becomes vaguely aware of a face staring him down from his left, but he tries to ignore the blatant come on and glares at the girl out of the corner of his eye, waving frantically for the bartender to give him his bill so he can pay and leave before he hurls the past few hours worth of cocktails into someone’s lap. The girl speaks to him, something he can’t hear over the lively laughter and jazz so he gives up and digs into his jacket, finally turning his body to face the woman whose hand is slowly inching towards his inner thigh. 

“I haven’t seen you here before,” she coos, her voice slurred in a familiar accent. Armin’s face is cold, and he remains silent, “and I’d remember a cute face like yours.” It’s German, he thinks. 

Blue eyes graze over her black ponytails that areshort and curled at the ends, then down to her revealing dress that’s hitched up above the bottoms of her thighs to show more skin than Armin’s used to. The neckline dips down between her breasts and the sleeves are thin straps that soon fall down her shoulder as she leans in to giggle at him. Her eyes are grey and wide, painted with a thin line of black to match the bright red of her lipstick. He swallows as his eyes move downwards and linger too long on her pale, shapely legs. The girl seems to notice, playfully slapping his arm with her free hand. The other moves only to tickle his knees as she gives off a mocking snort of laughter. 

“Someone’s being a naughty boy,” she whispers, breath fresher than his probably is. She’s certainly not drunk, and he certainly is, and the bartender is sitting his check down before he can reply. He sighs in relief and shifts to grab the paper, but she girl only leans forward, pressing her chest against his shoulder, standing, and loosely wrapping her arms around his neck. Her lips skim the shell of his earlobe and he stiffens, hands frozen as her fingers fiddle with the front of his jacket. “You wanna get out of here, Naughty Boy?” she purrs, moving her body so she’s directly behind him. He rushes to pay the bill, feeling as she presses her breasts against his back and hitches a leg up onto the side of the stool so her creamy thighs are exposed , brushing the sides of his trousers. 

“I’ll be walking home alone tonight, ma’am,” he struggles to say, pushing her away gently by turning in her arms and squirming out of her grasp. There’s a loud coughing from the other side of the bar, and he whips around to see the bartender glaring at him with fiery eyes. The girl plops herself on Armin’s lap, button nose pressed to his neck as she cranes her neck to whisper something German in his ear. He decides not to translate it and widens his eyes in recognition to the bartender. 

So this is _that_ kind of place, he thinks. For the past few months he’s been skipping around, never staying at one bar too long. He’s had to keep out of the Survey’s way, so finding untainted bars has proven difficult. Here he is on his first visit to this particular place to find that beer isn’t the only thing they serve. He tells himself at least it isn’t the bar where he met Her. 

It doesn’t take long to figure out that he better scram before the girl starts talking prices, so he feigns a smile that looks real enough to get her off his lap, and takes her hand, spinning her around to the music as he backs away. With one last spin and a cute giggle from the girl he pushes her away just enough to stumble into the crowd and make his way into the restaurant section before she catches up. He dashes outside and into the street, clambering into a taxi and rubbing his eyes as the roar of the engine fills his ears. 

* * *

December 1924

  
He was paralyzed. The smell of her hair tinged with the salt in the air made his breath grow shallow. A flood of memories was building up behind his eyes, ready to burst at any moment. She was sobbing into his chest, fingers clawing at his back through the thin fabric of his shirt, trying desperately to anchor herself to something, to bring them closer.

And he held her, arms tight around her waist, fingers locked around his forearms. He held them both together as her whimpers grew silent and his own spilling tears began to fall into the sand. She tried to slide away from him, but he held on even tighter.

He was afraid, afraid to look at her after all this time, to hear her voice again. His knees shook as she struggled to pull away from him, calling his name softly, calling his eyes away from the frosted ocean waves to her own blue, blue eyes. 

"You were dead." he was careful to use past tense, careful to watch her eyes as she stared up at him. She didn’t move, finger shivering at his back. 

"I know." Her lips moved slowly, voice heavy with her German accent. She reached up, a finger tracing his cheek up to his ear. She tucked a strand of blowing hair behind his ear, allowing her hand to drop as she inspected him, eyes wandering up and down from his eyes to his chest. 

"I thought--" he began, but she silenced him by placing her forehead on his shoulder.

He heard her murmur something, and dared to extend his hands to lift her face away from him. His trembling hands held her cheeks, making her look at him as she stood. He could feel the glares of her comrades on his back, but he held onto her tighter.

"You told me you'd--"

Tears welled in her eyes. "I lied." she breathed.

"About which part?" finger curled into her skin and she grimaced. "Annie I loved you and you died in my arms—,” his voice broke as he struggled to speak,”how did you-- You let me think you were dead, you let me suffer for so long, Annie— you, _you left me_." He yanked his arms away and he stumbled back. His heart was pounding in his chest, roaring in his ears. He was so conflicted, confused. His hands came up to cover his eyes. _This is all a dream_ , he told himself, _Annie died three years ago; this isn't real._

Her smaller hands wrapped around his wrists, tugging gently to pull his arms away.

"I didn't die." she said, voice harsh against the breeze, "I'm here." he threw his hands back, taking another step away from her.

"Do you know what you did to me?" He hissed, almost unable to breathe. "You lied to me. You left me. I was so alone for so long, and you come back into my life and pretend like this is completely normal, like I shouldn't be shocked that you're here!”

She looked scarred and shaken. She looked as if she were just as hurt by this as he was, but he had no pity, no mercy for liars. “Armin,” her hand came to rest on his chest but his came to meet hers, pushing it away from him as he wiped his face with his palms. 

Around them the wind began to pick up, and he could almost taste the rain in the air, feel the heat of the clouds against his skin. The sky was now darkening as the clouds moved, but she was the only thing he could see, the only thing he could focus on. 

“Armin let me make this—“ 

“Make it right?” he scoffed, fists tightening at his sides, now. “How are you going to make it right?” he yelled, voice cracking in the air. She winced, arms crossing over her chest as she looked away. “How can you get back three years of my life, no, four years.” Her lips trembled as he spoke, her body lurching as he opened his mouth to scream again, but nothing came out. 

“I’m sorry.” she whispered, and he could barely hear it over the wind. He shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment. A warm body pressed against his as he stood, face burrowing into the crook of his shoulder, hands tucked at his chest. 

“I am too.” he said quietly to her, bringing shaky hands up to touch her back, keeping her body pressed to his as the wind began to pick up and the only noise between them was the howl of the air. 

“We should go inside.” she whispered into his ear, voice shifting back to her less comfortable American accent. He nodded slowly, chin bumping against her forehead. His heart raced as hers remained slow and steady against him. The fact that she could remain so calm while there was a hurricane inside his chest angered him, made the winds inside him grow stronger. She pulled away and he dropped his arms with a scowl. 

Her fingers traced his forearm to his hand, trying to grasp his fingers with hers, but he tugged them away and started to move away from her. Each step in the sand was heavier than it was when he had thought they were going to kill him here. They might as well have gone through with it with the pain he was feeling in his chest in that moment. 

The wind blew against them as they walked, and when they reached the path to the house, Armin could see Bertholdt standing at the glass door, face dark and eyes heavy with unreadable emotion. He let them inside, eyes immediately on Annie as she entered the house. She hadher hands clutching her elbows, and her back was hunched forward slightly. She looked up at him as Armin watched, her right hand moving to touch his cheek with a tenderness he’d seldom seen before. Bertholdt’s face remained stony, his eyes the only thing to reflect the disdain he was feeling. 

Annie turned back to Armin, and they all stood very, very still. “Come to the kitchen with me.” she said softly, nodding towards the room she’d spoken of. Armin gave a single nod and gestured for her to lead. She took a hesitant step forward, then walked from the room and into the kitchen, glancing over her shoulder as he followed quietly behind. The blonde tucked herself into the inside corner of the counter while Armin seated himself at the table, hands settled on the surface, fingers linked, and eyes wide. 

“Am I supposed to be happy about this?” he asked, lips quivering. 

He didn’t want to look up to see her answer, so after a long moment she vocalized her shrug: “I’m… not sure.” she bit her lip, closing her eyes tightly and reaching up with both hands to brush her hair behind her ears. The winds outside picked up and battered against the glass of the windows. Armin picked his head up to watch Bertholdt and Reiner, who had materialized out of the living room, rushing to close the open doors and windows around the house. The blond shivered in his seat and resumed his earlier position, listening to the sounds of their heavy feet against the hardwood floors. “I didn’t know how you’d react— I didn’t…” she sighed, voice regaining some of the strength he remembered it to have, some of the strength he’d written she’d had all those years ago. “This wasn’t to hurt you, or to fool you into believing something you didn’t want to. I… loved you— love you very dearly. You know that. I didn’t intentionally—“ 

He held up a hand to stop her. He’d like to hear those things eventually, some day, but not now. “Where were you?” he asked, and she shifted her weight. 

“A bit of everywhere…” she breathed, voice growing louder as the wind picked up even more, raindrops tapping quiet rhythms against the windows. “The south, Europe, New York—“ 

“So you were here?” he snapped, head jerking to look her way. “You were here in the city?” his face was cold, hands clenched in front of him. She didn’t move, her own eyes icy and her body stiff. “You were so close to me and you didn’t think to tell me that you hadn’t died?” his teeth were gritted, knees shaking as he spoke.

“It wasn’t safe for you. It wasn’t safe for any of us.” she said, posture becoming more and more lax. He wasn’t satisfied with this answer, but he turned his head away anyways. He’d get his explanation soon, when he decided he wanted it. Annie seemed to know what he was thinking because her lips were pressed tightly together, a flat line against her softer face. 

“What were you doing for three years?” he replied. She waited to answer this. 

“Working…” he heard her swallow, “Missing you…” he scoffed, shaking his head. 

“Did you sleep with anyone else during your absence?” he sneered, getting right to the point, “Did you fall in love, have a child, find someone else to fill your time? To bring up to your room? To manipulate?” He looked at her with his cold eyes, and she looked shaken, eyes wide and fingers tight against the pale skin of her arms. 

“No. I— no. Armin, I—“ she looked as if she were about to cry again. “I’d never replace you like that. Do you honestly think—“ 

“I don’t know what to think.” he said, voice louder than they’d both anticipated. The two of them shivered, eyes moving away from each other’s gazes as the rain filled the tense space between them. There was an unspoken question. _Have_ _you_ _?_ he wanted her to ask. He wanted to lie. He wanted to say, “Yes, yes I did. I have a family now, a real life where I’m not missing you, where I’m not constantly trying to fill the space you used to take up in my bed. I slept with people more beautiful than you, people more honest, more loving.” But he won’t. He couldn’t. They both understood she knew the truth behind those words, behind all his words. He blinked slowly. 

“I need…” he looked down at his hands. His fingers were fiddling with each other. He brought his legs underneath the chair and laid his head on the table with a soft “thud.” He couldn’t bring himself to address her, call her by her first name, “I’m going to need time, I’m going to need space. I’ve been alone, without you, for three years.” he lifted his head, pushing off the table and standing in the process. He turned to her, and she pressed herself harder into the counter as he moved hesitantly, slowly, closer to her. “You don’t know what that was like…” he whispered, aware of the fact that they were being watched. He could sense Bertholdt and Reiner’s eyes on his back. He could hear them shuffling their feet nervously in the other room. 

For all they know he could have changed sides, he could have become a Survey. But they knew better than that. He knew they’d been watching him. He stood directly in front of her and she watched him carefully, observing every detail of his movements until his brought his shaky hands up to hold her arms. 

“I do,” she said, her voice breaking, “Armin, my love, I do, I promise.” Her small frame shook with a heavy sob, once and then twice. She was strong enough to stifle the third. He leaned down over her, his heart pounding in his ears. There was so much he wanted to know, so much he wanted to hear her say. He’d wanted her to come back. He’d held out hope for her to return to him, not even in his wildest dreams did he believe that it would happen. He bit his lip as his eyes flicked over her face. 

“I don’t know if I should believe you.” he shook his head, but her hands slipped upwards and into his hair, slowly pulling him closer. 

“I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me.” she admitted. Armin scoffed again. 

“I don’t think I could ever hate you… even after…” he didn’t finish the sentence. She made a noise that sounded like the echo of a laugh. “Annie,” his voice shook as he felt her breath against his lips, her nose brush his, “Do you love me?” 

“Yes,” she said, voice breaking as her upper body shook with laughter, “Yes, I promise, I do, I always did.” she bit her lip as his eyes closed. “I always will…”

“But you lied to me—“

“I didn’t tell you the truth —“ 

“It’s the same thing,” he rested his forehead against hers, still afraid to look her in the eyes again. His hands fell to her waist, his grip so light she could barely feel it. 

“I know.” she answered, her own eyes closing tightly. 

“I think I still love you too.” he breathed, and her body relaxed in a sort of relief. “I think I still love you even if you broke your promise.” she nodded slightly, bumping their heads together. 

“I’ve done many bad things, Armin.” she crafted her words carefully, “Do you still love me then?” 

He thought on this, and opened his eyes for a moment before leaning down and pressing his lips firmly against hers. Annie tensed, and a moment later her fingers tightened into place and pulled him closer. She tasted like salt and rain and the end of an era and the time passed so slowly between their lips that the rain had stopped falling long before they broke apart.

* * *

There was a loud cough that caused Armin’s eyes to open. His head was nestled in the space between Annie’s shoulder and her neck, breathing her scent in and out as her fingers stroked his hair with tentative hands. They stood in the kitchen as she sun came out at the window, bodies tense and weak from staying in one place too long. The cough came again. Annie’s hands stilled and Armin inhaled as he drew away, turning to see Reiner standing in the doorway. Armin stepped away from her reaching up and wiping his face with his hands before walking to the window. 

“Was ist das?” Annie asked the taller blond, and Armin was momentarily surprised that he understood. 

Reiner leaned closer to Annie, mumbling something in her ear in their home language, but Armin interrupted. 

“Sie müssen nicht, das zu tun. I know what you’re saying,” he called out, eyes flicking from Reiner to Annie, who were shocked by his fluency in the language. “I did some studying in your absence,” he explained. Annie frowned, though a gleam of pride was in her eyes. Reiner just nodded once, face twisted in annoyance. Armin suddenly thought to himself that he had gotten a lot of practice with the language over the past few years. He often communicated in different languages to Krista, to _Historia,_ when she visited. It turned out that the girl was more of a mystery than he’d first thought, just like the woman standing in front of him.

“You need to make a decision on where you’ll be staying tonight.” Reiner grunted in English, eyes moving from Armin to Annie. Annie locked her fingers in front of her, frowning but nodding in agreement. “The storm continues, so it would be our safest option to remain here.” Reiner took a step towards the window, drawing back the cover and glaring at the outside world. There was a crash outside, startling Armin and causing him to jump a little from his spot. Annie’s eyes flicked over him to make sure he was okay before she walked to join Reiner at the window. 

“They won’t try anything in such a heavy rain…” Annie murmured, reaching up and closing the curtain to draw Reiner’s attention back to her. There was a perpetual moment of heaviness on all of their shoulders. Annie glanced from Armin to Reiner, and then into the next room where Bertholdt could be heard moving about with anxiety. Armin glanced down to the floor and then around to the cupboards that circled him, searching for any excuse to avert his eyes from the other two in the room.

“You mean the Surveys,” his voice boomed in comparison to the dead silence around them, “they’ll come after you?” he asked, continuing to keep his gaze away.

“Yes…” Annie replied hesitantly, “They don’t know I’m alive, but Bertholdt and Reiner have not been in the same place for months now. If we’re all caught here, including you, we’ll surely be eliminated.” 

The old Armin would have swallowed at this notion, the idea that they’d be executed by the people his own friends associated with. Now he just stood in solemn silence, unable to say a word, listening to the sound of his own rapid heartbeat. 

“Do they think I know something?” he asked, his breath becoming shallow. He did not want too much information too fast, but he did not want to be kept in the dark. His eyes shifted to Annie who stood uncomfortably in her place by the window. Her face illuminated by the stifled sunlight unlike her eyes that darkened with thought. 

Annie flicked her hand, dismissing the taller blond. Reiner left the room after a disgruntled chuff of breath, obviously unhappy to have been ordered out. Armin lifted his head to hear the blond man mumbling something to his now significantly calmer partner in the next room over. The blond could visualize himself running his fingers through his hair and yanking as hard as he could, but that wouldn’t solve anything. It wouldn’t help him right now to be hurting himself as he tried to figure this all out. It was a puzzle, a puzzle he pieced together three years ago that had come undone. There were new pieces now, pieces he’d never seen before. He just had to fit them together one by one. 

Only he didn’t think he had the patience to see it through. 

“They think… you’re helping us.” she said quietly, tapping her fingers on her arm. She turned her back, resting her head on the side of the window. “They think the payments you’ve been receiving from us every other month have been because you’re working for us.” Armin leaned back onto the nearest hard surface, which happened to be the counter, and closed his eyes. His brows furrowed and he let his head fall back as he thought. 

“I’ve been getting payments every month, though.” he replied. 

“They’ve been paying for your silence.” she said, audible disappointment. “You never published the full story, never told anyone outside about the events, never demanded pay for what you went through, never threatened them… They paid out of kindness, you could say,” she breathed, “but now that you’ve disappeared in the middle of the night they will think one of two things… that we’re disposing of you for our own reasons, or that you’ve been helping us all along.” 

Armin nodded with a frown, unwilling to ask why she’d put him in this danger to begin with. “So you’ve been making money outside of what you did before? In other countries?” 

Annie chuckled quietly, “Yes I always have. I have power in England, in Germany, in Russia. I’ve got smaller gangs wrapped around my fingers, governments fearing me… though they all believe I’m dead.” she turned, pressing her back to the wall, feeling the rumble of the thunder against her skin, “I’m a ghost now. They think I’ve got a puppet in my place… they’ll be surprised to see me.” she laughed to herself, causing Armin to shiver. 

“Did you lose anything when you died?” he asked quietly, and all laughter ceased. 

“So much, Armin.” she replied quietly after a long pause. He bit his bottom lip, standing up and turning to look at her. She was now facing him, eyes wide and posture slanted. “More than you… More than you know.” she said, reaching up to touch her own cheek with her hand. He stood, watching her for a solid minute before closing his eyes and letting out a sigh. “I want… Can you forgive me?” she asked, “I’m not sorry for what I did, for lying, for leaving,” she paused, “that was for me. It was to protect myself, my assets,” a glance is spared for the men in the other room and her eyes flashed back to him, “for my friends… I’m not sorry for saving myself,” she “but I’m sorry I hurt you…” 

He opened his eyes to see her staring, eyes watering but seemingly fragile body very still. She looked cold, as if it were his job to walk across the room and hold her if only to keep her warm and dry. The aching in his chest only grew stronger the longer he looked, and her little body only seemed more and more small. 

“I will need to think about it.” he whispered, finding it hard to breathe as he kept his gaze on her. She nodded slowly, and in the time it took to inhale and release, she had disappeared from the room. Armin leaned over the counter, pressing his palms to the surface and hanging his head as his body began to shake, and he felt the familiar pull at his hands and eyes and mouth because as soon as she was out of sight he began to miss her once again. 

* * *

 

All he ever did was think. 

The sky remained dark through until the nighttime. Reiner and Bertholdt were stationed at each door, and from Armin’s seat in the kitchen he could smell the cigarette smoke drifting in from the back of the house. 

He’d sat here for most of the day, leaving Annie to converse with her comrades in the living room, sharing tea and speaking hushed words so that Armin wouldn’t hear. He caught the gist of it, regardless: they were to go back to the city, hide out in a new safe house until the it was clear to make an escape, meet with partners and close on deals around town. He began to bite his nails, tongue dry and body itching to search the house for a bottle of something heavy to drown out his thoughts. 

He’d taken a two hour walk on the beach as soon as the clouds cleared up and the sunset lit the beach as the moon rose. He slipped off his shoes and tucked his hands in his pockets before making his way down the shore, toes tickled in the freezing water, reminding him of a better time. Reiner watched from the back porch, making sure he wouldn’t make a run for it. After a while Armin returned, cleaned himself in the bathroom and spent a long time staring at himself in he mirror wondering when the color of his eyes stopped reflecting the crystals in the ocean and started resembling the bottom of a liquor bottle. 

And then he sat here, in the kitchen, head in his hands and heart in his throat. He’d come to one resounding conclusion over the day: He wanted her. No matter what she’d done, the blood on her hands, the miles under her feet, he _wanted_ her. He didn’t forgive her, couldn’t forgive her, but he thought that with time he’d be able to see her point of view. He’d always wanted to. 

He inhaled, pushing his hair behind his ears and holding the mess of blond to his forehead as he thought. He blinked. It must have been ten or eleven at night before he moved again, but he did. It was time to stop thinking. He slid the chair back, tucking it under the counter after he’d stepped back and away from the table. He wrapped his arms around himself, defensive, and moved silently into the next room. It was an odd noise, the silence, an even odder feel when the room was empty where she should have filled it. There was a sense of longing in his chest, pulling him towards the place he knew she’d be. 

He placed a hand on the bedroom door, inhaling deeply before softly pushing it open. The body on the bed jerked upwards, and their gazes were once again locked. She visibly relaxed, sliding up onto the bed to place her back on the headboard to watch him. He glanced over to the doors, making sure Reiner and Bertholdt were not watching, and slipped inside the door, closing it behind him and pressing his back to it. He swallowed as he watched her cross her arms over her knees, drawing her legs up to her chest and observing his every movement, every breath. 

Armin moved without a word to the bed, letting every ounce of strength he had not to rush towards her, take her in his arms, kiss her senseless. His arms itched as the thought crossed his mind, but he knew he could not allow himself to do this. He had to take it slow, he’d decided. He had to take it slow so that the fragile connection between them would not be broken again. He’d lost her once and he wasn't prepared to lose her again.

His legs carried him to the side, and the blonde woman’s eyes widened as he climbed onto the bed, on his designated side if he remembered correctly. He laid out on his back, unable to look anywhere but the ceiling above him. She shifted beside him and he flinched, closing his eyes and feeling her settle beside him. Though her hand was only a few inches away, it felt like there were miles between them. The steady sound of her breath in the air was the only anchor in the sea of confusion he was in, the only constant besides his own ragged breath. 

“I’m—“ 

“Don’t say it again.” he huffed when she tried to break the silence. “Don’t…” he whispered, breath shaking, “Just…” he sucked in breathe, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. “Annie.” 

It was so foreign to say her name again. He’d forbidden the word for so long, writing pseudonyms in his notebooks and stories for months before he convinced himself he’d forgotten it altogether. 

“Armin.” she breathed, relieved almost, like a prayer. He didn’t dare turn his head, knowing that if he did tears would spill over out of his eyes. Instead he moved his hand slowly towards where he knew hers would be. 

There was a heavy feeling that ghosted over his chest. After all this time he still remembered how she laid on a bed, her head tilted to the side, arms splayed open to welcome him, welcome someone, into the warm crescent of her body. He remember the way her fingers felt intertwined with his when it was too hot to hold her, how her body shook when she pressed heated kisses against his neck with her fingernails digging into his shoulders, how she felt when she ran her fingers over his arm, listening to him quietly, watching him with those beautiful eyes, eyes he’d had dreams about when he slept alone. Memory was a dangerous thing, he thought as his hand scraped against the cold blankets towards her open palm. 

It was like he was in a dream, threading his fingers through hers, feeling her calloused fingers against his. Their hands lay between them, barely touching but to intimately intertwined that he felt this tie could never be severed again, not without a fight. 

She was right back then. He’d needed to become a fighter. He squeezed her hand gently, and heard a choked sob escape her lips. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip to keep himself from letting one out himself. 

“It’s strange,” he breathed as she shivered, tightening her grasp on his hand and nodding her head. 

“What?” she asked, much too quiet to have come from the mouth of a lion, much too quiet to have come from the lips of Annie Leonhardt. He forgot that his own had been there too, between her lips. They were softer than they looked, kinder than she cared to admit. He closed his eyes and smiled. 

“Touching you again.” he replied, tightening the lock between them and tugging her towards him. She reacted immediately, pushing her body from her spot as he shifted onto his side. She slipped from his grasp tucking her body into his, her head under his chin and her arms around his waist. His hands slowly found where they’d fit before, a little more gentle than he remembered he’d been back when they first met. 

“All my life I’ve been a warrior,” she said into his chest, the feel of her breath sending a shiver down his spine. He nodded, chin brushing her forehead, “But I’ve never fought for anything, anyone that I’ve actually loved.”

Armin reached up, fingers lacing in blonde tresses, brushing through the strands as softly as he could manage. 

“Until now,” she scoffed and began to laugh, but the solemn line of her lips was evident against his skin. There was a moment of silence. They both inhaled the other’s scent, and Armin’s first thought was that she was intoxicating. “There’s a big fight ahead of us…” she whispered, scooting backwards and brushing a hand over his cheek, her eyes full of storms as she gazed at him. “Will you… fight with me?” she asked, blonde lashes brushing her cheeks as her face drew closer to his. 

“For you or with you, they’re the same to me.” the words slipped from his mouth as he closed his eyes and her nose brushed his. How he missed that feeling, the feeling of her body so close to his, pulling and pushing, falling asleep in his wake.

‘Gravity,’ he wanted to say, ‘you’re like the moon and I am the ocean.’ but the words die in his mouth as she kissed him again and it felt like three years time disappeared between their quickened breaths. 

 


	2. Chapter 2: Catching the Wave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Hope you all are enjoying your summer. I promised this chapter to tumblr user tentsubasa literally a month ago, but life got in the way. So here it is in all it's glory (and horrible-ness) a month late, dedicated to a wonderful Aruani fan. Thanks for reading! Reviews, faves, and follows are appreciated. Expect another chapter before August, and don't be afraid to remind me to keep writing. (slight slur trigger towards the middle/end...)
> 
> If you're interested in some other cool Aruani fics, I'd check out: Wir Werden Uns Wiedersehen (lionhart), These City Lights (Katsy0c0), and next chapter I'll mention the other one but to be quite honest I'm very tired and I have no idea what the author's pen name is! Enjoy!

January 1921

The door is closed, the window thrown open so they can feel the coolness of the night against their flushed skin. Her hair falls in her eyes when she turns her head, fingers soon rising to brush the golden strands away. They both breathe quickly, eyes watching each other's movements intently- or at least, they were.

He's half under the covers already, eyes a quarter lidded with a lingering smile. She lets out a final sigh, regaining her breath as she watches him slowly fade. There's a bead of sweat running down his forehead, but no hand comes to catch it: he's already asleep.

She snorts, turning over onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. Before a word could be spoken, he'd made himself at home beside her in this strange, vast bed. She runs her fingers through her hair, then turning her head once more to glance upon his face, the smoothness of his nose, the curve of his jaw. His quiet breathing tethers her to the truth of the matter- the question at hand. Her heart, still racing, begins to beat slower and slower until she can barely feel it anymore.

Her eyes shut tightly, remembering the last time she'd brought someone to bed. It had been months, the memory was faded. It was a safety concern, an untouchable topic. But now, even when stakes were so high, she'd led this lamb astray, led him willingly into the wolf's jaws and sank her teeth into his throat. And she doesn't even remember his last name. A shuddering breath is released as she lays as still as she can, letting the icy winter air blow against her and into her lungs. It bites, but she breathes it in regardless, her own words beckoning an answer at the back of her mind:  _What have I done?_

March 1921

His hands are rough against her smaller, softer ones. Once his seemingly monstrous fingers take her palm, she almost wishes she hadn't sent Armin away. A sudden wave of fear washes over her as another large hand is placed on her hip, and her palm glides over a taller shoulder. She most crane her neck to look at him properly, especially with such close proximity. His eyes are icy, a smirk displayed on his lips. When he smiles, it is not simply a grin, but a display of dominance, dominance over a woman he often underestimates.

"He seems like a lovely young man," Erwin begins, the beat of the music bringing them to a slow back and forth motion.

"I know you did not pull me away from the attractions of this ritzy party to talk about my side item." she says bluntly, but in a sweet voice. Her accent is thick against the air, but she maintains composure. She can't falter in front of such an observant man.

He laughs, a distinct bellow that would not be mistaken for a genuine chuckle. It fills her with rage, to hear him like this, merry and hollow. Yet, she knew something would come of this. Showing up to this party would send a message, not showing up with send an even more potent message.

"No, no, Miss Leonhardt, I pulled you from the extravagance to talk about your boss." he says, and the music takes a turn. The band plays a jazzy tone, and the tempo picks up. The two of them remain in close proximity, but swing a little faster to the beat. It's almost like a game, she thinks as Erwin smiles at the people around them, and then to his comrades who still stand not too far off, drinks in their hands and scowls on their faces.

"Reiner is boring," she says, feigning a yawn in mockery, "let's talk about me." she says playfully, her gaze moving from the taller man to the other dancers who seem oblivious to the clash going on right before their eyes. Erwin laughs again, but his face turns very serious in a matter of seconds.

"Alright, let's talk about you, Annie," her name on his tongue feels like a violation, "if I may call you that?" She says nothing in return, only scowling as they swing around to the smooth music. "I heard you have been becoming increasingly involved in the affairs of your… higher ups, if you will." Annie rolls her eyes and throws him a playful smile.

"If you think I am where I am because I've slept my way to the top, you're absolutely—"

"No, no, pardon my interruption, Annie, but you've got me all wrong," he says, "I know you're a sheba, even a man at my age can see it, but what I mean is… well…" he pauses, and the music takes a beat to rest before slowing once more, "I don't know exactly what I mean." and with this comment, Annie knows she's in dangerous waters. She smiles gently, lifting her gaze to catch his eyes.

"Perhaps you only wanted to dance with me because you want the other dames to see you can still catch a bearcat." Erwin's grim look lightens and he looks out into the room, catching something with his eyes and causing Annie to turn and look. The man is gazing at the short blonde who is being embraced by two young people, one of whom Annie knows quite well. She narrows her eyes, but forces the dance to continue, keeping an eye on her lover from where they dance. "To answer your original, un-asked question, I am becoming more involved, but not enough to threaten my Reiner's leadership." she blinks, and catches a smile on her lover's face as he speaks to his friends. It makes her heart sink. Her voice then deepens in severity, "That said, my increased involvement means many things for my Reiner. If you make any threats to his—"

"Oh no, Annie, I think the Titans will be safe for now," he says, but his tone causes her stomach to writhe. He leans closer, hand coming up to press against her back. She gasps, struggling to escape his tight grasp, "but don't stop watching your back, Female Titan," he chuckles, deep and rolling into her ear, "we'll take what's ours soon… and if you ever feel like you're finally safe, remember," his sticky breath sends a shiver down her spine, "I'm watching you."

Her eyes flash to Armin, who now looks mildly uncomfortable as the dark-haired woman begins to chastise him quietly. Erwin seems to feel the fear through her body, and lets her slip back into her comfortable position before. Annie released a long breath, surprised that she'd been holding her breath for this entire encounter.

"Do you love him?" Erwin inquires gently as the music slows even further, the deep notes striking Annie's chest with powerful strength. "He seems to like my favorite runners."

Annie glares in their direction, straightening her posture before responding to his taunt. "No, why? Has my apathy been confused with affection somehow?" she asks, voice taut with agitation. It seems to sell the older man, who shrugs and keeps a steady look on the back of Armin's head.

"I wouldn't know about love," he says, eyes glinting in mischief, "I'm just an old man in this simple game we play."

The dance is drawing to a close, the tempo slows and the decrescendo falls.

"You're an old man who should have left the game years ago." A broad smile lines his face, creasing at the edges of his lips and eyes.

"Ah, an old man who can run just as fast as a young vixen like yourself." The disgust in Annie's eyes seems to amuse him, and they step away from each other after another moment of choreographed grace.

"If you'll excuse me, Mr. Smith, I'll be with my date," she glances over to the blonde young man whose gleaming light is slowly dying under his friends heavy gaze, "He seems to be enjoying this party more than I am."

Erwin gives a nod, and Annie turns her back, walking straight into the arms of one Reiner Braun. She links her arm with his, and when they are out of Erwin Smith's range of hearing, Reiner speaks.

"You seem to be having a lovely time," he says through gritted teeth. It's code for something only Annie can understand.

"I am. Erwin Smith and I had a lovely discussion about my role in our business." Reiner's pace falters, but Annie drags him back into step, directing them to Armin and his friends. The blonde woman drums her fingers against Reiner's forearm, "Don't worry. He may have all-seeing eyes but we have secrets that even God cannot uncover." Reiner looks relieved, and falls into a fit of laughter. Annie begins to laugh with him, and when Armin's gaze turns from the others, who now look offended by her presence, she forgets for a moment that Erwin's gaze is at her back.

She slips out of Reiner's grip and into Armin's arm, "Armin, this is Reiner Braun…"

March 1924

When his body lurched awake there was a weight on his chest. Armin's eyes blinked open rapidly as he inhaled with a single sharp breath. The smell of salty air was overwhelming, and memories flooded into his mind at the sound of wind blowing in through the cracks in the window. His back arched and his arms slid around the large bed, one finding a vast empty space and the other bumping into something soft and warm. He swallowed, morning breath nearly unbearable, and tilted his chin to look at the mass he'd encountered. His fingers brushed the top of a pale thigh, eyes grazing over a limp body that was splayed out over his middle. The blonde resting on his stomach had her arms tucked underneath her head, mouth ajar and hair in disarray, one leg on either side of his sides, crooked at the knee in a sort of clinging-fetal position. There was a momentary panic on his part, seeing as he wasn't accustomed to waking up to another person sleeping in his bed, but as soon as she shifted her head and glanced his way with her, beautiful, tired eyes, he relaxed.

"Armin," she whispered, blue eyes alarmed as if she was surprised to see she'd fallen asleep on top of him. He chuckled, sitting up on his elbows and allowing her to slide downwards. She immediately sat back, reaching upwards to run her fingers through her hair. It was a sight that he has missed terribly.

"Good morning." he breathed, watching the fabric of her nightgown fall into place as she stretched her arms. His eyes moved from her shoulders to her face, noticing the way her jaw slackens as she rolled her neck. Annie lifted one of her legs and rolled over onto the other side of the bed with a loud thump, releasing the air from her lungs in a loud sigh. Armin turned his head, watching her fighting to keep her eyes open as she lays there on her back. "I'm going to go for a walk," he said, and she nodded slowly. Watching her in this state is a foreign feeling, in fact, the action of watching her at all carries a funny, dreamlike vibe. He leaned over slowly, breathing in her warm scent, and slowly kissed her forehead. Her smell was familiar, but in the way that made him believe the first time he experienced it was in a far off memory, one that was meant to be forgotten. She made a satisfied moan-like noise, lips curling upwards just enough to know she was pleased.

"Keep that up and I'll join you," she mumbled, as if in a dream, and rolled over, taking the blankets with her. The way she said those words struck a chord in Armin. She acted as if it were only yesterday they'd been here together, enjoying each other's presence.

Armin sat up, rolling his neck while keeping a careful eye on her. She seemed completely comfortable with her current position, wrapped around a pillow and covered in a mountain of blankets. A sick feeling fell over him as he watched her, listening to her breathing slow as she fell back asleep. She had immediately let her guard down even though they'd never done this before. He could not remember a single time when he woke up before her. The image of her, standing half naked near his window on a rainy day, blowing cigarette smoke through the screen, was seared into his mind. Perhaps she'd trained herself in this fashion, leave herself, become unguarded in the arms of another man. He shook his head, sliding his legs off of the bed and running a hand through his hair. Blue eyes glanced back at her sleeping body. For once, she looked peaceful.

He had to take her word for it, believe that she hadn't been fooling around with someone else. After all, she was here, in this bed with him and not somewhere else still pretending to be dead. The sick feeling in his stomach only grew with this thought. Instead of thinking about it more, he jumped up, smoothing out his shirt and reaching for the trousers he'd set out the night before. He slipped them on, buttoning them and smoothing them out with his palms. Armin heard a quiet snore from behind him, and before he could stop himself he let out a chuckle. Upon hearing himself he straightened up, glancing over his shoulder to make sure she remained undisturbed. She was quiet now, but her body very still. He sighed in relief, and leaned down to pick his suspenders out from the insides of his shoes, clipping them on and running them over his shoulders. The quiet thump of the elastic against his shoulders was somehow satisfying through the quiet air of the house. He quietly sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on his oxfords and lacing them up. As he tied the final knot, he heard a grumble behind him, and turned his body to look at the woman on the bed.

When he entered the kitchen to move to the back door, someone was already waiting for him at the counter, leaning over and resting on his elbows. The tall brunet stares idly at Armin as he walks through the room. The blond threw his shoulders back, face a rosy hue from embarrassment. It must have been odd for Bertholdt, to watch a man come from his boss', and friend's, bedroom. He'd indirectly known Bertholdt for a long time, he guessed, so however weird it might be, he shouldn't be ashamed. After all, nothing happened that he should be ashamed of to begin with…

"Good morning." Bertholdt broke the ice between them, and Armin stopped by the ice box. He nodded back with a forced smile.

"Good morning." he found his voice was croaky, perhaps from the earlier anxiety he was feeling. He turned, reaching into the wooden ice box and reach in for a chunk of ice. When his hands found no purchase he felt silly, and closed the door. Of course there would be no ice - it had been three years. Armin took a deep breathe, then reached up into a cabinet, where he knew the glasses would be, and blew out the dust before setting it on the table. "Care for a drink?" he asked, turning to look at Bertholdt. The brunet stood up, but shook his head 'no.' Armin simply grunted and began to scour the cabinets for something potent to put into his body. His head was a buzzing for something to quench his thirst. He made a small "ahh" noise when his hand found a half-empty bottle of something he's sure would still taste decent and pulled it to the counter.

Bertholdt's jaw was slack as he watched Armin pour a the drink, then gulp it down in a single go. The alcohol burned his throat as it went down, but as soon as it hit his belly, the feeling in his head was back to it's usual state. He avoided Bertholdt's gaze as he poured another, resigning this time to sipping it.

"How have you been?" Bertholdt asked tentatively. It is then that Armin realized the man is not trying to conceal his accent. Perhaps this is for the best: no more secrets.

"Well," Armin said, "I've been to a lot of places since…" both of them finish it in their heads, but with slightly different versions. Bertholdt seemed to understand though, and nodded slowly.

"So have we." he said, but left it at that. Armin felt nauseous just thinking about it. A walk seemed to be a bad idea. "Where exactly have you been, Mr. Arlert?" the man asked, and Armin nearly laughed. He found it ironic that Bertholdt address him this way after all that's happened.

"Where? Oh, to Hell and back." he said, bringing the glass to his lips. Bertholdt's face was solemn, heavy in sadness.

"Where are you now?" The question struck him hard, hard enough for him to set the glass down and lean against the counter, hanging his head a little.

"God, I don't know." there was a heavy silence between them, and before either could say another word, there was a sound behind them. Someone was walking from the bedroom to the kitchen. Both bodies turned, alert, but the sight of the figure in the door caused them to relax.

"Good morning, Annie." a tone of familiarity filled Bertholdt's voice as he spoke. Annie nodded his way with a faint smile, then looked to Armin.

"I thought you were going for a walk?" she asked, making her way towards the counter. She was half dressed for the day, a chemise dress hanging loosely on her shoulders and a robe wrapped around her, covering up the places in the dress that hadn't been fastened. Her arms crossed over her chest, bare feet hitting the ground with quiet thumps. Armin shrugged, watching her come and stand beside Bertholdt.

"I was, but I changed my mind," he said, fingers curling tightly around the glass in his hand, "it's mighty cold outside." Annie sniffed, and her eyes caught on the glass. Her jaw slackened, eyes widening as she formed the question he almost forgot she was going to ask. Before she can speak, though, another person entered the room, stretching his arms high above his head and furrowing his brows pointedly at Armin.

"So, boss, once you get dressed we'll be heading back to the city?"

Armin chimed in, "Wait- won't that be too dangerous?" Reiner glared as if Armin had spoken the more ignorant words he'd ever heard. Reiner just turned his back and looked to Annie, who sent him an icy stare.

"No, Armin," she replied almost sweetly, "we have some level of insurance. The Surveys just can't see us coming in or going out... You see, they're a little afraid of our friends who are now in ownership of where we're going-"

"So after you disappeared you struck a deal with a rival mob, right? They own and protect your land and keep your secret while you hold something over their head, which is why they'll have no problem defending you if the Survey's come near," he paused and waited for someone to interrupt, not none spoke up so he kept going, "And if I'm guessing correctly they're holding onto your old stomping grounds and keeping the business alive while you're on vacation, and when we go back, you'll collect your scratch and get the hell out of town. Is that right?" Armin was slightly out of breath after his outburst, his heart racing fast from the adrenaline of one-upping his ex-lover. (He wasn't quite sure what to call her at this point.) The two other men look surprised, but Annie's face retains a certain level of pride.

"How the hell-"

"Cool it, Reiner," Annie said, tugging her robe tighter around her shoulders with a subtle grin, "he's just good." Armin felt a swell in his chest, and he nodded, concealing a wild smirk. Annie ran her hands along the front of her robe, smoothing it out. "Once I return and grab my cash, our associates will be free to let the cat out of the bag, and the Surveys will adore them for finding the Female Titan after all these years. That's what they get for a prize. By that time I'll either be gone or on the move with my attack plan for getting back what's mine. That's where you come in." Armin swallowed when she looked at him like that, with ferocious eyes and a calm expression. "And on that note, I think we'll be ready to leave here in a jiffy," she turned and began to make her way to the bedroom, calling back, "now that Armin's got it figured out I think we can skip the part where we blindfold him and wheel him off to a strange place."

Armin didn't find her joke amusing, but watched carefully as she sauntered back into the dark room and closed the door behind her. When he turned, he noticed Reiner had disappeared as well, and he and Bertholdt were alone again. Armin looked down at the glass and smiled, running his finger over the lip of the crystalline cup before placing it delicately into the sink and making his way silently to the door to await departure.

* * *

The ride back into the city was uneventful, quiet even, until they pass a large white house on the way, now covered in ivy and moss. Armin's eyes averted from the scene, favoring the overgrown grass and plants in the yard and the gravel that looked as if a single car had run over the same path time and time again. Annie shifted in the seat beside him, sliding an arm around his to link their bodies. Armin shot her a weary glance, but the signal was missed entirely. Annie stared out the window with increasing interest at the passing house, causing Armin to swallow nervously.

"Have you seen Ms. Lenz lately?" she asked casually, but Armin noticed the tenseness of the two men in the front seat.

"Reiss," he corrected, "she goes by Historia Reiss now." Annie didn't turn to look at him, only raised her brows, her grip on his arm going slack. There was no reply, but he supposed she could guess from his words that he and Historia got along famously. The friends he had left, Mikasa, Eren, Jean, all knew his connection to Historia, and were happy the two of them could be so close. It was rather toxic, though, in Armin's eyes. They only got together to drink and worry. In fact, Historia had taken to him like a mother to an abandoned child, trying her best to tend to his every need until he sent her away under the excuse that he needed some sleep.

He shook his head, trying to toss away the thought. Historia was a good friend, a little troubled, but a good friend.

Annie's hand disappeared, leaving his arm a little cold. She curled up against the other side of the car, her forehead brushing the window every time the wheels hit a bump or swerved, but she didn't seem to mind.

They passed several minutes in silence until Armin leaned his elbow against the ledge of the window and pressed his lips tightly together, holding back a question he desperately wanted to ask.

"So how'd you do it?" he blurted out, eyes pointed out the window at the passing scenery. The car went silent.

"Do what?" Annie replied after a stretched moment. There was silence, and then, "Oh."

Reiner and Bertholdt seemed to understand as clearly as Annie did, and shifted in their seats, Reiner sending Armin a heated glare over the back of his seat.

She took a deep breath before beginning, starting at the very beginning of the story, "Bertholdt took you away from the scene as quickly as possible. There was no guarantee that there'd be time left to save me… My pulse was too quiet to detect, even after I'd stopped breathing, but it was there," Armin swallowed while listening, afraid to look at her face. Her cheeks had gone ashen and her eyes wide and drooping with sadness. "Reiner took my body to the nearest doctor, probably held them at gunpoint to help me since it was after work hours, but whoever it was performed some sort of miracle because I started breathing again. Reiner quickly moved me from there to a nearby make-shift hospital in one of our warehouses where they perfumed an emergency surgery. I lost… more blood than anticipated. They said I wouldn't recover, but as long as Reiner kept paying they kept trying new procedures, and kept bringing me back to life after my heart stopped. They tried a blood transfusion too, some sort of new dangerous treatment only used within the last decade or so. They put someone else's blood into my veins, which helped my body gain balance again. After that, I was sent to Germany where a group of very smart people took care of me until I could communicate again."

Her voice began to strain as if she was choking up, and he had to resist the urge to touch her, comfort her, as she finished her story, but instead he just asked, "What's wrong?" finally sparing her a glance. She shook her head.

"Nothing." she huffed, tucking her hair behind her ear quietly, "As soon as I recovered I made my way back to the states, and devised a plan to finish our business here." He nodded and turned to look out the window again. The tension in the car still remained.

"What does this new plan entail?"

She remained silent.

"A lot of running." Reiner answered for her, and Armin lifted his head with interest, but knew there would be no further explanation.

Once they reached town, he fully expected them to go to the hotel, where Annie once lived, but realized this wasn't the brightest of ideas. If they didn't want to be noticed, they'd go somewhere else, somewhere the Survey's were least expecting. The car pulled up next to a very, very familiar apartment building, and he turned, eyes wide with surprise, to ask Annie if this was a good idea.

"We'll be fine," she said, tying a black scarf over her head and pulling on dark sunglasses.

He chuckled as the door opened, "Do I need a disguise?" he asked, but she ignored the question, sliding out of the car and quickly stepping towards the front of the building, bidding him to go forward ahead of them. The blond couldn't seem to move fast enough, and when he reached the door, Annie slipped his key into his hands, and he unlocked the front, then allowing her inside first, looking around to make sure no one was watching. At this time of day, not many people were out and about on this street, but there was no telling what kind of surveillance the Surveys had on his house. More than once he'd found suspicious figures lurking around, eyes only on him.

None of those figures seemed to be loitering, so he let out a sigh of relief, following Annie up the stairs to his floor. Once they reached the door he unlocked it, slipping inside first to turn on the lights and suddenly feeling a wave of embarrassment. The entire apartment was… trashed. His last night before he'd been taken to the beach house was a bad one. He'd drunken just a few too many glasses of bourbon, and gotten frustrated with his current manuscript. There were papers scatters across the couch, the bed, and his desk, and his typewriter was broken on the floor. The lampshades on his lamps were crooked, some of the lights broken too, and his bed hadn't been made in weeks. Annie didn't seem fazed when she entered, only walked in and placed herself on the edge of his bed, slipping off her scarf and glasses. He could tell she was trying very hard to hold in a sigh of relief.

As he began to pick up the apartment, he asked, "Are Reiner and Bertholdt coming up?"

Annie shook her head, "They're securing the area. Bertholdt will probably come stand by the door to keep watch, and they'll let me know if there's any strange activity that we should be alerted to."

He became amazed by her, just then. She looked as comfortable as ever, leaning back onto her palms on his bed, legs kicked out and toes brushing the floor.

"We rationalized that this would be the safest place, or at least, the place that they'd least expect us to be. You're still friends with their members, aren't you?" she asked, and they both knew she was referring to the Surveys.

"Yes, actually." Armin said, a little hastily, picking up the last of his papers and putting them neatly on his desk.

"How are they?" she inquired softly, as if she was actually interested. Armin was happy to play along, though.

"Fine. Eren's growing in rank, I suppose… after Hange's untimely exit from the group." he expected some sort of guilty reaction from her then, but all she did was nod and move to the window, peeking out the curtains like a scared child, "Mikasa's involved in protection services now, a better gun than anyone else. Smart too. Eren can barely read, but they leave him in charge of the books— I— I shouldn't be telling you all of this." he stopped abruptly.

"Changed allegiances?" she asked, voice flat and cool. She released her hold on the curtain to look at him with a sparked glare.

"No." he replied irritatedly.

"You can talk to ghosts Armin, I'm dead, remember?" Armin just nodded slowly as she returned to his bed, sitting and running her palms over the covers, "Dead women don't tell tales... and they don't spread secrets, either."

He released a sigh, looking down and trying to ignore her last comment, "I see them all the time, now," he started, and caught a look of sadness on her face for a brief moment, "Perhaps my place isn't the most secure."

"They're preoccupied," she snapped back, "don't worry about them showing up."

Before he could ask what she means, there's a knock on the door and instantly the both of them were on edge. Reiner and Bertholdt wouldn't need to knock, Armin was almost certain they both had a set of keys to enter the apartment, so it must have been someone else.

Armin gestured for Annie to move back, and she stepped towards the small kitchen table, standing behind it with a hand brushing the top, as if to use it as a shield.

He moved towards the door carefully, listening as the knocking returned, becoming hasty and much louder. With one last glance towards Annie, who nodded slowly at him for permission, he opened the door cautiously, and was immediately surprised by the figure who entered.

"I was so scared for a moment, Armin, I thought you'd gone out or you were asleep still," the blonde strolled in, looking down to remove her sunglasses and put them in her small handbag. Her dainty hands moved quickly as her plump, pink lips fired rapidly about her day so far, "Today I was recognized as Miss Lenz at the market! It was quite a surprise, actually, I didn't think anyone would know my name way out here— on Long Island surely, but here is a different story." she turned to Armin, who was standing stunned with a face with a blatantly horrified expression. "What's wrong, Armin? Cat got your tongue?" she reached up and brush the back of her hand over his cheek. "You aren't sick are you?" she turned pulling her bag from her shoulder and into her hands as she walked into the kitchen.

"Historia—" he tried to stop her, but her gaze had already rested on the woman standing only a few yards away, now unprotected from the table and fully exposed to the other young woman.

The entire apartment went silent except for Armin's ragged, nervous breathing and the sudden sound of a handbag hitting the floor with a loud "thud." The shimmering bag bursted open, and the string of pearls along the clasp broke. Small white orbs rolled across the hardwood floor, causing a racket in the heavy silence of the room. Armin quickly leaned down to retrieve the bag and the pearls, but no one else moved. He stood, very slowly, and watched the his friend come out of her daze, taking a single, hesitant step forward, and then another more confident one. Armin moved to place the bag near the sink, watching as Historia's nostrils flared and her eyes grew wide with a silent rage.

The blonde reached up to push a strand of short blonde hair behind her ear before beginning to tug her white satin gloves off, one finger at a time, her gaze never faltering from Annie who now seemed more like prey than predator. The two gloves sliped off, and she stood, back erect and hand trembling, mouth parted, finally ready to speak.

"Why am I surprised?" she asked, giving a laugh filled with pain, "The bitch survived." Historia walked to the table, her voice low and her lips drawn back in a snarl. She set her gloves on the countertop, running a hand from her hip to the bottom of her dress, then reaching up to push her hair behind her ears again to fully glare at Annie. "How come you get to stand here and breathe my air when my Ymir remains with the dead?" spit flew from her mouth. Her words were venomous, hateful, and hard. Armin winced from his place only a few yards away, and watched in distress as Historia rushed over to Annie, staring her in the eyes and snatching the front of her dress with her lithe fingers. She pulled the dress tight with an incredible strength from her small body that neither Armin nor Annie had expected. "You selfish whore!" Historia slapped her, tears in her eyes, "I've lived in fear for so long—"

"Historia!" Armin called, stepping across the room to stop them. He reached to grasp her lifted arm, but she swatted his hand away from her, sending a poisonous look over her shoulder at him.

"You could have done more to protect her! You stand before me, you cheated death, you should have laid your cards for her— for Ymir— the only one who'd been faithful to you for so long —"

"I saved her life once before," Annie swallowed, face scrunched in anger. She doesn't bother to cover her accent this time, her scathing anger taking over, "I returned your precious lover to you, and if I could have helped her," she paused, closing her eyes as Historia slapped her cheek again. Armin guessed she meant when she brought Ymir to work for the Titans the first time, but the conversation was between the two of them, and he wasn't about to start asking questions to make the situation worse.

Annie didn't move as the girl's hand curled into a fist, as the blows became harsher and stronger, "I would have saved her if I could!" the Female Titan barked, lifting her arms and grasping Historia's forearms in her hands to subdue the girl who had lashed out against her, kicking and shaking. The smaller blonde eventually tired and slumped down onto the floor, body wracked with sobs. Annie allowed the girl's frail arms to slip from her grasp, her own arms falling to her sides as she looked down at the sobbing girl.

"You saved yourself. You— you — I —"

Annie slowly crouched down beside her as Armin watched helplessly, his heart pounding. Annie's thin fingers traced over Historia's reddened face, pushing the thin blonde strands of hair behind her ears as she cried.

"She promised she'd stay with me, she promised —" Annie's eyes flicked up to meet Armin's for a single moment, and then the heavy, blue gaze was back on the crying young woman before them. Armin swallowed, running his hands down his face and turning away. He'd let them deal with this themselves… he'd dealt with Historia for a long time, and he figured this could be one of the ways Annie would pay him back for what she'd done.

"I need your help…" he heard her whisper to Historia, and the girl mumbled something incoherent in response. "Historia, I need your help. And in return I can help you." Armin's interest piqued. He crossed the room and sat himself on the edge of his bed, watching Annie sit and face Historia, who was wiping her eyes with an almost expressionless face.

"Why would I want your help?" the girl replied, and Annie nodded.

"The Survey's will know I am alive soon—"

"So they'll want to come after you—"

"They'll come after  _all_  of us." Historia looked up then, eyes closing and opening slowly until she fully realized the weight of Annie's words. The girl moved, standing on her feet and stepping away from Annie's reach.

"They didn't even name her in the papers." she breathed, looking at Annie. Armin looked at her too, wondering what the hell she was doing. If Historia had been apart of the plan before, he wouldn't have known by her surprise when Historia entered the room, but Annie was smart. He'd play along if he needed to.

"Your name didn't make an appearance either," Annie said, "but we know who knows your name, and who knows where your heart and loyalties were that night."

Historia looked as if she'd been the one to get shot just then, her face growing paler and paler by the instant. "In the upcoming weeks, I will need a place to stay. The Surveys haven't bothered you for a while, have they?" The smaller blonde nodded slowly, "Right. If this apartment gets… discovered, I'll need to move quickly. My own beach house isn't safe anymore, and your wealth and stature can hold them off until I need to make my escape."

Historia nodded, her understanding of the situation becoming more clear. Armin found himself nodding too, seeing Annie's point but knowing Historia's house was also almost as unsafe as his apartment. Though the Survey's hadn't bothered her for some time, and she hadn't hosted any gathering there in quite a while, they were sure to turn up when they got wind that Annie was back.

"Can I trust you?" Annie asked, her voice stone cold. Historia looked at her, eyes narrowing and fists forming at her sides.

"You can't bring my Ymir back to me," she said, "so what will you give me in return?"

Annie paused and turned her back, walking towards the window again and drawing back the curtain. "Levi, right hand to Erwin Smith, fired the bullet that killed Ymir."

The room went silent again as Annie gazed leisurely out the window into the streets below. A car honked its horn, some men yelled out in Italian, a woman laughed. Armin swallowed.

A beat later, Historia gave a single nod and snatched her purse from the sink, letting herself out of the apartment and into the hallway, slamming the door behind her.

"Annie— how do you know—?"

"She won't tell anyone." she cut in, rubbing her hands over her face and walking on shaky feet back to the bed. "We've been watching her."

"But she still blames you for her friend—"

" _Lover_."

"— her lover's death, she tells me that constantly, that it was all your fault for getting Ymir mixed up in your business in the first place!"

Annie laughed, collapsing onto the bed and rolling herself in the covers. Armin was less than amused at this sight, placing his hands on his hips and shifting his weight.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"The Devil's got nothing on me, Armin," she breathed, a violent laugh escaping from her, "but I swear to God if I'd had the chance, Ymir would be alive and in her arms again."

Armin let those words settle on his shoulders as her laugh came to a stop. He sat on the edge of the bed next to her, finger fanning out across the sheets.

"I believe you," he said closing his eyes to listen to the soft beating of his own heart, "I believe you."

**Author's Note:**

> By now we know a few things.  
> 1\. Yes, Annie is in fact alive.  
> 2\. Yes, Armin still loves her.  
> 3\. ???? 
> 
> I won't be putting much slang on these notes anymore since I expect you all to have learned them by now! I hope this satisfied some of your needs from XX and I hope you continue to read and follow as the story progresses.  
> The timeline for this one is going to be a little skewed- like this chapter there will be flashforwards and flashbacks frequently, let me know if this is not effective for you.  
> Thank you so much for reading, again, I hope you enjoy, and I appreciate all likes/kudos/follows/reviews etc!


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